


Good Parenting

by onceuponachildhood



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Headcanon, Language, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Multi, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3831868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponachildhood/pseuds/onceuponachildhood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the outside, they look like something they're not. Tucker just rolls with it because why be serious about feelings when you can have a running gag that lasts for years? | Post season 12, probably canon divergent | connected drabbles when the mood strikes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Parenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tucker seriously just wants to get the fuck off of base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on [imjustlo's](http://imjustlo.tumblr.com/) amazing [headcanon on tumblr](http://imjustlo.tumblr.com/post/117413119496/an-outsider-overhearing-an-argument-between-tucker).

Armonia is crowded. After years in Blood Gulch and the desert and on back-ass ends of galaxies doing the diplomatic thing, Tucker’s sort of forgotten just how many people can fit into a city. Even after years and years of pointless (engineered) civil war, there are still so many people in Armonia. Even more now that there’s been an uneasy ceasefire called. That many people, packed into one place, with tensions running high? It feels a lot more crowded when people from both sides of the war are trying desperately to avoid bumping into each other.

But there’s downtime - even Carolina and Wash can’t run missions 24/7, though Tucker thinks they probably could and Kimball is just being very resolute in assigning R&R - and if Tucker has to stay cooped up on base he’s gonna start climbing the walls. He asks if any of the reds or the rest of blue team wants to come with him and suddenly his “get the hell out of these four walls” day becomes a fucking field trip.

At Kimball’s urging even Wash agrees to go. “Get out there. Let the people see the heroes from both sides of the fight making nice.”

“We were never on opposite sides,” Tucker says, though when he turns to Wash for backup the former freelancer remains silent. “We just wanted to help our friends.”

Kimball runs a hand through her hair, in one of her rare moments of being unhelmeted. Tucker suspects it has something to do with their other wayward freelancer hovering just outside the door to Kimball’s office. Kimball’s hair is cropped short, spiky, and frankly the most impressive shade of aqua/teal/whatever that Tucker’s seen. The first time she’d taken her helmet off in front of him he’d made some undignified noise of surprise (and he’d deny it forever, thank you very much) because the leader of the rebel army was a) smokin’ hot and b) totally a rebel punk. Kimball had thought his surprise was funny, of all things, and had simply said she was the leader of a bunch of rebels. What else did he expect?

Kimball runs a hand through her hair, but she doesn’t sigh. “Even so, that’s not how they saw you. Get out there,” she says, “and let them see you together.”

So Tucker leads the reds and blues out into the city, and tries not to think about how much like a dysfunctional family they look. Even Church is there, lurking in Tucker’s armor port after Carolina insisted on a couple hours of privacy. (Tucker thinks that might have something to do with their punk rebel friend, but he doesn’t dare mention it to Carolina.) Caboose drags them along the sidewalk and Donut drags them into shop after shop; it’s surprising to Tucker that there are even so many shops open so soon after the ceasefire was called and also that the mixed presence of the reds and blues really does seem to be relaxing the tenseness of the people they pass. He sees more unhelmeted people in an hour than he’s seen in the past month. There’s even one of two hopefuls in half-armor, undersuits a welcome sight after so long seeing only metal shells.

Eventually Caboose decides he’s hungry and between him and Grif the group is steered toward a little Italian place on the corner. They sit outside with Kimball’s not-quite order in their minds. A waiter with a tentative smile walks out and takes their order, and that’s enough motivation for Tucker to pop the seals on his own helmet. Tuning out the sound of whatever ridiculous conversation Donut and Caboose are having, Tucker settles the helmet under his chair and shakes out his dreads. “Lavernius!” Wash hisses. “What the hell are you doing?”

Tucker raises an eyebrow, both because with his helmet off the expression is actually visible and also because Wash said his name first name so he’s definitely pissed about something. “I’m… taking off my helmet?”

“We’re out in the open,” Wash says, and Tucker rolls his eyes because duh. That’s the point of going out, isn’t it?

“Yeah, dude. I noticed.”

Wash sighs that long-suffering sigh of his, the one that says ‘quite frankly I’m not sure how you’ve survived this long without me to babysit you’ and Tucker can feel the smirk on his own lips. “Tucker. A ceasefire was called less than a month ago. You’re a public figure. We. Are. Out. In. The. Open.”

“Dude, chill,” Tucker says, and even though he can’t see Wash’s face he knows that Wash is scowling.

Wash’s hands clench on the edge of the table until the metal screeches. The conversation Tucker was so pointedly ignoring falls silent. Slowly, with the sort of reserved jerkiness that Tucker knows means Wash is about five seconds from punching something or shooting someone, Wash stands. “I need some air.”

Tucker can’t stop himself. “Plenty of air all around, Wash. Just gotta take off your helmet.”

“We are outside, Washingtub,” Caboose adds sagely.

“I need some air somewhere else,” Wash snaps, and steps away from the table.

Grif turns toward Tucker. “What got his panties in a twist? You guys having a lovers’ quarrel or something?”

“It’s kinda sweet.” Tucker turns toward the waiter, who clearly overheard the whole thing. It would bother Tucker if he didn’t also maybe kinda feel warmer from Wash’s concern. The waiter is smiling, still, and it looks a little more solid than it did before. “He must really care for you to worry that much.” They put the drinks on the table, speaking over the clinking glasses. “Maybe one day I’ll find a husband that loves me that much too.” They take the group’s food orders and leave, and other than his meal choice Tucker sits in silence.

Church flickers into view on the table. “Uh, Tucker? Any particular reason you didn’t correct that assumption that you’re married to Wash, or is there something you need to share with the class?”

Several helmeted heads swiveling toward him is a little more intimidating when he isn’t also hiding behind one, but Tucker just rolls with it. So what if they all are looking at him? He is hot as fuck, really, he can’t blame them. “Well, if Wash is the team dad, and he’s my husband, that sorta makes me team mom, doesn’t it?” Caboose nods even as Grif snorts.

“You’re not even actually married,” Simmons objects.

Tucker starts to respond, but Caboose beats him to the punch. “Simmons! That is no way to talk to your mother!” 


End file.
